


While Watching... (While... series #2)

by Banbury



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-21
Updated: 2009-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banbury/pseuds/Banbury
Summary: Joe comes to Cascade





	While Watching... (While... series #2)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This story was written for the first "Give & Take" remix round.

The prompts I choose were:

Prompt by Micah Loden 

_Dispite his dislike of guns, Blair is and excellent shot and is forced to prove it_

Additional prompt by Lyn

_We all know that Blair obfuscates, but this time he's lied. What did he lie about? How did Jim Find out? Djes it change their relationship? (I didn't intend to use more than one prompt, but afterwards found out, that I used it to some extent)_

__

Beta by amazing Jane Davitt. Thank you!

__  


* * *

***  
Joe slid deeper down in his chair, shielded his eyes, and tried to tune out the sounds coming from behind the closed door. 

Not that his fate was at stake, but he'd still be disappointed if this plan didn't work out. He’d spent too long last year proving to Mr. Burnham that he'd earned his reputation as a prodigy photographer to be turned down at the last minute.  


One of the voices rumbled something unintelligible and Joe opened his eyes, meeting the puzzled gaze of the Commissioner’s secretary. He knew what she was thinking; what was so important about this mild-mannered man, barely in his twenties, quite good looking with his dark gold mop of hair and smiling blue eyes, for the Commissioner and Captain of Major Crime to fight over. He snorted to himself – ha! mild-mannered sweetie, that’s him, all right.  


Joe closed his eyes again. His headache, severe enough to require three painkillers that morning had almost gone. He didn’t know what to make of the constant headaches he'd suffered for the last six months, or the weird sensory spikes he'd experienced. He’d gone to his doctor for his yearly medical checkup but it hadn’t revealed anything important. He'd told nobody else about his problems, partly because he was a very private person and preferred to deal with illness by himself, partly because of some strange rumors he'd stumbled upon while trying to find out about his father.  


Joe smiled to himself, thinking of all the things he’d been reading for the last few months. As much as he loved his stepfather, Jim was everything any son would like to see in his father – strong, brave, and loyal. Worth following. Again, so was his stepfather – also a cop, also strong, brave, and loving. However, living with a person on a day-to-day basis had its own disadvantages when it came to seeing them at their worst – ill, bad-tempered, unfairly angry. Especially when Joe knew that he could be quite hot-tempered too…  


Seeing Jim in that crowded airport hall last year had been a revelation. It was as if some pieces of his life had suddenly found their place. And it had also strangely devastated him, as he found more questions than answers and his life became more complicated. It was as if the world that had threatened to crumble around him for some time had begun to fall for real – everything he tried to hold upon had become uncertain, and he had to strain all his senses to remain in charge of his life.  
Sitting there waiting, Joe thought that he could almost hear his mother’s voice. “Joseph, darling, you know I always wanted you to be independent and always respected your decisions, but are you sure you need more complications in your life than you already have?”  


She’d had a point – between his attempts to find himself a place in the world of professional photography, the courses he’d been taking at Columbia University, and the arguments with his father about the decision not to follow in his steps, not to mention the other father on his hands, complicated was the perfect word.  


There was a noise very close to him, and Joe snapped out of his thoughts to find Captain Banks looking down at him with a strange expression in his eyes.  


“Well?” Joe asked hopefully.  


Captain Banks frowned for a second and nodded as if he'd remembered what it was all about.  


“Oh, okay. I’ll take you, but the first step in the wrong direction and you’ll go like a shot from a gun. Are we clear?”  


“Crystal.” Joe nodded back, knowing that he was lucky to have even that chance. He prudently didn’t ask who he'd be working with, just to be on the safe side. The division itself was the closest place to be near his father.  


Captain Banks turned away without further words and left Joe behind, scrambling to his feet and trying not to lose sight of the older man.  
  
***  


Jim and Blair weren’t looking at all like last year's happy couple at the airport. All that Joe had seen for the whole week in the bullpen was snarls, hisses, several shouting matches, and stony silences. They disagreed on all things – from the way Sandburg put a pen on the desk, to who was responsible for buying groceries the previous evening.  


Joe was disappointed. No, disappointed was too mild a word to describe his feelings. He was mad with his father. He could understand and sympathize with Blair when he began to shout at this stubborn, insensitive man. To think of it - to spend a year trying to get close to the ideal father and find him a brute like many others. He wished he’d listened to his mom – wise woman that she was.  


Joe switched from his trusted Nikon to the digital camera. It was a new development – more of a toy than a really useful tool, but he found it handy to map a scene. He snapped several shots of the bullpen.  


The evening sun from the large windows gave the whole room a strange, almost cozy look and detectives lazily wandered to and fro like fishes swimming in a bowl. Joe himself felt like he was underwater; somewhere very deep – sounds were muted and the outside light made his eyes water.  


Joe shook his head, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible and jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder.  


“Wha…?” Joe turned sharply and stared at Blair. He hadn't heard the man coming. Joe shivered, dreading that he was suffering one of these damned “states”. He'd avoided anybody seeing him in that condition for a long time and intended to keep it that way.  


Blair patiently waited while Joe gathered his wits, and he was thankful. Sight and hearing were back to normal now. Joe stayed silent for a moment, trying to decide what to say.  


“May I help you?” Blair sounded curious and a little suspicious.  


“What do you mean – help?” It was Joe’s turn to be querulous.  


“Hum-m-m, it seems you have problems with… with hearing?” Strangely enough Blair looked at him almost hopefully.  


“No! No, why do you say so? I’m perfectly okay. Just daydreaming, you know…” Joe grabbed his bag and began to shove his equipment in it hastily. Now he was officially afraid.  


He didn’t even register the softly spoken words at first.  


“You know, Jim has problems with his hearing sometimes, though now quite rarely. With other senses too.”  


Joe froze. He could hear the other man’s heart beating frantically and looked up. Blair looked back at him with poorly concealed excitement mixed with apprehension.  


“Why? I mean why are you telling me that?” Joe turned away from too knowing eyes.  


“I know the signs.”  


“I don’t know what you are talking about.”  


“Bugger.” Joe heard the older man’s quiet words very clear. “Stubborn as… as Jim. I wonder if it’s common for the Sentinels or just for … Ellisons?” Blair sounded suspiciously thoughtful. “Are you related to Jim in any way?”

Joe hadn't expected that question, although the whole eerie conversation had led to it. His heart sank. Joe didn’t want Jim to know about the son he didn't know he had just yet and no way would his father’s lover keep it back from him. Joe’s mind went blank; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to say a minute before, let alone what he needed to come up with right now. He shrugged helplessly. “And if I…”  


“I won’t tell anybody if you ask me not to.” Blair looked at him with a believable sincerity. His heart was still beating madly. “As a scientist, I can only hope that you’re his… son.”

“Uhm-m,” Joe stuttered, not sure if it was a good idea to confess, but continued nonetheless. “And if I am?”  


“Oh!” It looked funny to see Blair speechless – blinking slowly and looking like a manga character. Joe smiled for the first time since he'd gotten there. 

“Can you keep it a secret? Just for a little while.” Joe looked at his… stepfather, he suddenly realized, and his eyes widened at that thought. “I just need to…”  


“… get used to it, right?” It seemed that Blair could see inside his head and Joe nodded. “You know, Jim wouldn’t like it.” Joe nodded again; he just couldn’t bring himself to head over to his father and say out of the blue, “Hi, I’m your unknown son.” Simply couldn’t. And there hadn’t been any openings to do it subtly.  


Joe felt Blair’s eyes on him. He was sure he'd see disgust there and impatience to see him leaving, but there were only mild amusement and understanding. “Believe me; I know how difficult it is to talk to Jim sometimes.” Blair smiled at him.  


“Uhm-m, I…” Joe paused and then blurted out the one question he was desperate to know the answer to. “Why are you shouting at each other all the time? I’ve seen you…” He stopped, realizing suddenly that Jim was near. He heard familiar gruff tones over all the noise in the bullpen and then felt the other man’s eyes on the back of his head.  


Blair caught it at once and mouthed “later” before saying in a completely different tone, “So, you think taking photos actually on the scene or even while chasing the suspect will give the book a certain level of trustworthiness?”  


Joe felt at a loss for a moment, but then caught up. “You got it! I tried to take pictures on the scene with Rafe and Brown, but they are so aware of the camera, that afterwards each shot looked staged. But you're a natural!” They laughed, almost forgetting about Jim and were startled when a gloomy voice from behind said disapprovingly, “I see you found each other at last.”  
  
***  


Joe was torn between wanting to tell Jim everything and wanting to be somewhere far away when Jim eventually discovered the truth. He was glad Blair was in with him on it, but it didn’t make the situation a whole lot easier – Joe wasn’t the type for a long heart-to-heart conversation, and apparently neither was his father.  


He changed the film in his camera, all the while watching Jim and Blair working the scene. He understood a lot more about their relationship now that Blair had given him his research papers to read over. And he realized why he felt so calm and in the right place beside the former anthropologist. Even if they really didn’t have time to confirm Joe’s generic inheritance.  


He'd had a lot to absorb in the last week – Blair’s research, this diss case, the bond between his father and his… step-father. Joe grinned again, thinking of Blair as his step-father. Even with the age difference between them close to fifteen years, Blair understood him sometimes better than he knew himself.  


Joe focused on his work. There were several beat cops and a witness on the crime scene. He watched them interfere with the detectives, talking, taking evidence, arguing with the journalists who tried to film it all.  


Joe had taken several rolls of film over the last two weeks but each day gave him new angles, a new perspective on the police work. He'd changed the preliminary plan of the album almost every day and had long passionate arguments with his supervisor over the phone. Joe had been sending him the best to date pictures with short accompanying stories and yet every evening he called him with the panicked cry, “No, no, I found even better ones…” Strangely enough, his boss was patient and understanding.  


“Don’t worry, Joseph, don’t hurry and don’t worry. You have two more weeks, and then we’ll sit down with all the material and choose the best. I gave you that chance, and I’m not gonna send another photographer to do the work one more time. It seems you have a good rapport with the policemen, just do your best and all will be okay.”  


Joe mumbled sincere thanks to each reassurance, but the comfort only lasted till the next morning, and then he began to worry all over again.  


“Joe!” The photographer jumped and turned to Blair who grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. You didn’t hear me, I was afraid you were zoning out.”  


“Oh… no! no! Just thinking.” Joe realized that the policemen had finished their work and were packing evidence away. “What are you planning to do now?”  


Joe listened to Blair explaining what they needed to do, all the while feeling Jim’s accusing stare on his back. He still didn’t know why they'd behaved so violently towards each other that first week and now, having Jim’s disapproving attitude turned on him, Joe didn’t know what to do or to say to make it better. It was frustrating.  


“Don’t let him get to you.” Blair patted Joe’s arm reassuringly. 

“He doesn’t understand why I’m friendly with you, and it bothers him. And…” Blair bit his lower lip thoughtfully, “I think he feels something towards you and doesn’t understand what exactly. It makes him uneasy.”  


“Why?” The younger man was sure he’d read something in Blair’s papers that could explain why, but couldn’t pinpoint it right now.  


“Alex.” Blair carefully mouthed the name  


“Alex?” Joe frowned for a second, “You mean… you mean he… feels threa…?”  


“Are you done discussing my attitude towards this little sh…muck, or do I need to walk around a little longer?” Both men jumped guiltily, but Jim’s behavior was so childish that they snickered involuntarily. That didn’t improve Jim’s mood, not a jot. He huffed and quickly retreated to the Jeep, and left them scrabbling behind.

 

***  


Joe moved the camera bag to his other shoulder and tried to keep up with Jim and Blair, who were almost out of sight. He was cold and tired, after spending a boring morning with Captain Banks meeting with the recruits at the academy. It was tedious to accompany Rafe in the afternoon to the shooting range – not that he didn’t like to spend a couple of hours in the shooting gallery from time to time, but there was nothing interesting to film. And now, in the late afternoon, under the steadily dripping rain, he dragged himself along with Jim and Blair to question a witness.  


This evening was the first since their talk with Blair three weeks ago he felt really down. He blamed the weather for it; the autumn was in full force now - rainy, windy and cold; the ocean smelled of rotten algae and entrails; even coffee in the morning wasn’t right – too hot, stale, and bitter.  


The wind blew the fallen leaves up around his feet and Joe shuddered. He should be truthful with himself and say it – the main problem was his father.  


<i>fatherfatherfather</i>   


<i>No fucking way he can go to him and tell him about… what?</i>

Joe wasn’t sure what disturbed him more – to tell Jim that he was his son or to tell that they shared the same genetic advantage/disadvantage. Jim was dead set against him – never listened to him, pretended not to see him or plainly ignored Joe. Joe himself mostly hid behind Blair. All this did nothing to ease the tension hanging between them.  


Joe shivered. He wasn’t only cold, tired, and now disgustingly wet. He couldn’t understand why, but he felt jumpy, his hearing spiking unpredictably. Even Blair’s presence helped very little. It was as if there were malicious glares from every gateway, spiteful hisses from behind every door.  


He’d felt his father's uneasiness as well. Even Blair had sensed something wrong and murmured quietly, trying to calm them down.  


Joe stumbled in a pothole and cursed. They had to go by foot up the narrow street to the apartment house on the hill above the port. There were too many vehicles on both sides of the road to drive safely in Jim’s shiny, new Jeep and Joe regretted taking the whole bag instead of just one camera.  


He stopped for a second to catch his breath and almost fell back when someone grabbed the bag’s strap from behind. He hadn’t heard any steps – each rustle rumbled in his ears – and was caught by surprise.  


“Hey! What?!” Joe yanked the bag and tried to turn to see his assailant.  


“Gimme your bag! Now!” The attacker took Joe by the throat with one hand and began to strangle him while jerking at the bag with the other hand.  


Joe wasn’t sure why he didn’t just let it go, but he gripped the strap firmly, trying to pry the hand from his throat. “Let… me… go, you… moron!”  


Jim must’ve heard his hoarse whisper, because he suddenly appeared with his gun drawn, lit by the street lamp from behind and looking larger than life. “Cascade police, let him go!”  


“You… heard… the… man…” Joe croaked the words, feeling something wrong. The hand tensed on his throat almost unbearably. He coughed and felt something sharp pierce his throat.  


The attacker shouted in a much higher and younger voice, “Drop your weapon! Drop your weapon!”  


Joe was afraid to breathe deeper. He hadn’t even enough breath to say something and watched helplessly as his father tried to move without being noticed.  


He heard frightened gasps for air behind him. The mugger, whoever he was, apparently was inexperienced and now, having Joe under the knife and a police officer with a weapon in front of him, didn’t know what to do. He was afraid to let his victim go and couldn’t bring himself to actually do the deed and use his knife.  


“Don’t move! Don’t move! Drop your weapon!”  
Joe didn’t feel well. The lack of oxygen and sense of a knife piercing his skin left him dizzy. He was sure he heard the blood dripping from the cut, but it was difficult to say – there was constant noise in his ears, his hearing turned frighteningly low and he didn’t even hear himself repeating, “Hurry up, Daddy! Hurry up!”  


Joe heard the man’s heart behind him beating its way out of his chest with fear and dark excitement. The mugger was shouting incomprehensibly. It seemed darker now, but Joe saw all with absolute clarity: his father – eyes wide with apprehension, hand steady, weapon never wavering, waiting for the opening; Blair - hidden behind Jim trying to use his weapon secretly. “Hold on, buddy…”  


There was a moment's hesitation on both sides, then the mugger’s hand shook, and Jim turned half-way, as if he sensed something. Joe saw Blair take one step sideways, lift his weapon, and fire. Once. Twice. And then all turned black.  
  
***  


“Why didn’t he say a word?”  


Joe heard the words but didn’t really register them. He was warm, a bit damp but definitely better than before. Something was wrapped around his neck snugly, but that was all - he didn’t feel real discomfort. He was good.  


There were voices around him and the sound of the sirens, but all he could listen to were the two voices above.  


“You think he was afraid of me? Why didn’t I realize he was my son? I knew there was something off with him, something… something almost familiar. And I never even…”  


That was Jim talking, Joe was sure of it. He just couldn’t understand why Jim sounded so lost and sad, when he was warm and content. He wanted to say, “don’t worry, we are good”, but couldn’t persuade his tongue to move.  


“Why didn’t you tell me?” There wasn’t real anger in his father’s voice, just incomprehension.  


“Jim…” Joe heard Blair sigh. “Jim... Jim, you know I love you, I’d do anything for you, but sometimes you’re a very hard person to talk to. You were so convinced that Joe had something to do with the military… I wasn't sure you’d hear him out.”  


Joe heard his father shift uncomfortably and smiled to himself.  


“Oh, no, Jim! You don’t think I betrayed you with your son! Please, Jim…” Joe heard Blair’s voice trail off and was suddenly afraid. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position. “No… no… Blair… it’s…”  


Then there were hands holding him down. “It’s okay, kid! Calm down.”  


“No! me… it’s… me… wrong… not… not… Blair…”  


Somebody held him, petted his hair, whispered something in his ear. Joe heard nothing, trying to see through the low light and say something to his father to make him understand.  
“It’s okay, kid! Don’t worry; we don’t hurl an accusation thoughtlessly anymore. Look at me, Joe. Calm down, little one.” Blair’s voice was persistent and guide-like soft.  
Nobody called him ‘little one’ for many years. Joe held onto it and finally emerged from his haze. He was lying on the Jeep seat with his head on Blair’s lap. There was quiet now and…  


“Hey, where’s the…the…”  


“The boy who attacked you? He’s okay, wasn’t even hurt much – the bullet went straight through his shoulder. The ambulance dressed the wound and released him with the uniforms to the precinct. Stupid gang initiation…” Blair smiled down at Joe and it was really okay. “They patched you up too, thankfully just a scratch,” and he muttered once more, “stupid boy…”  


“I think I saw you shoot. It was you, right?”  


“Me.” Blair helped Joseph sit and gave him a bottle of water. “Jim distracted him and I shot.” 

They heard a pained low gasp from the front seat. Jim looked at them with wide, almost black eyes. He opened the door hurriedly and stepped out.  


“Ji… dad?”  


“Let him be, Joe.” Blair stopped him from following his father and they settled down, waiting in silence for Jim to return.  
  
***  


Joe fell asleep and woke when the Jeep jerked and started moving. Blair snored gently beside him and Jim was driving.  


“Ji… dad?” Joe was sure Jim heard him, but he didn’t acknowledge Joe. He sighed and slowly moved to the front seat, wincing when he felt the tightness of the dressing on the throat.  


“Daddy? Listen… I’m sorry.” There was no answer from the older man. “Will you listen to me, dad?” He waited for a minute or two and then continued. “I didn’t want to upset you. It’s … I know, it’s stupid, but… you know, I’m no good at talking. Blair just guessed it, that’s all. I needed to find a way to tell you. You wouldn’t… wouldn’t believe it, if I just came and told you out of the blue…”

Joe knew he was babbling, but couldn’t help himself. His father’s silence frightened him more and more with each passing second and he would say anything just to fill it in.  


“Yes. Blair is like that, his guesses are usually better than another’s knowledge.” The answer was half-unexpected and Joe choked over his words for a second. Blair was an even better topic, in fact, with their inability to talk to each other, it was the best. Joe smiled and turned to his father.  


“Yes, he’s good…”  


“I’m a prince among men, but you have to actually talk about it.” The voice from the back seat startled both father and son; the car swerved dangerously on the empty night road and stopped.  


Silence enveloped the three of them, half-comforting and half full of anticipation. Sprinkle beat steadily on the roof and wipers whispered its rainy song, filled the pause.  


“Blair…” Jim’s voice was low and painful and Joe suddenly wished he was anywhere but here. He really didn’t like to witness these kinds of conversations. “I … sorry, I was … I remembered Alex all the time, but it was so confusing… it was different and yet… and then that was it, “daddy”, and I was afraid when I realized what it really was… that if you didn’t shoot I could’ve lost the son I never knew about.”  


Blair said nothing.  


The sound of the rain was soothing and fallen leaves in the light of the headlights were silver and golden. Somewhere from the afar drifted the call of the ship with the clear foggy ocean smell. Joe breathed deeply and yawned.  


Blair suddenly launched forward, caught them by their necks and kissed each one on the forehead. “Love means never having to say you're sorry.”  


And that was that.  


There were three of them, alive and relatively good, on their way home, ready to begin new wonderful journey. That was life. Their life. And nobody would ever mess it up.  


 


End file.
